


I Can Tell You

by Ort



Series: Ort's LU Shorts [2]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Linked Universe, Mild Gore, ooo some twilight angst, sorry Twi, this started from a single line i had in my head and... evolved, wow ow ow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 09:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18363080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ort/pseuds/Ort
Summary: There's a spear sticking out of his stomach.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Linked Universe (find on Tumblr)

There’s a spear sticking out of his stomach.  

 

There’s a spear sticking out of his stomach and he’s looking down at it, surprised.  The pain hasn’t hit yet, hasn’t registered, because Twilight is still caught up over the fact that there’s a spear, the head of it specifically, sticking out of his stomach.  

 

The moblin behind him roars. 

 

The spear is bloody, which is gross, and sticky with pieces of insides, which is grosser.  They’re  _ his _ insides, he realizes, a bit belatedly, but Hylia can’t really blame him.  

 

There is, after all, a spear sticking out of his stomach.  He thinks he deserves, maybe, a little time to process it. 

 

He doesn’t get it, really, because just as the realization hits him that it’s  _ his _ stomach and  _ his _ insides and  _ his _ blood, the spear is yanked out through his back.  

 

The moblin cackles.  

 

He can see Wild across the cave, staring at him.  He’s blurry, which is annoying, but Twilight can guess well enough what his expression is. 

 

Surprise, probably.  Horror. 

 

Twilight doesn’t get much time to think about that either.   Instead, he only gets enough time to say “uh” before his legs give out beneath him and he falls forward.  

 

Twilight hopes he goes out soon; hopes he’s out before he hits the ground because, 

 

  1. a) the ground is gross from the guts of the monster he’d just killed when he’d gotten run through and he doesn’t wanna be awake when he gets a face full of it and, 
  2. b) he knows the minute he hits the ground the pain is gonna hit him as well, and he certainly hasn’t had enough time to prepare for that either. 



 

He hasn’t had enough time for a lot of things.     

 

He wanted to do a lot.  See the world. See other worlds.

 

Show Time and Wild his world. 

 

Hylia, they hadn’t even gotten to his world yet.  

 

Can’t he have just a little more time?  To show them? To bring them to Ordon village and let Time meet Rusl?  To show the cub the canyons and mountains and let him ride Epona?

 

Gods, he would have loved Epona.  

 

He’s in the middle of cursing Hylia again, (because this isn’t new and he probably has eternal punishment waiting for him at the end of all this.  Forget being a chosen hero, he’s almost as bad as Time) when he realizes that he’s been falling for quite a while. 

 

He can still see the ground, slowly getting fuzzier.  It’s not moving towards him quite as fast as he thought it would.  

 

Time, it seems, has slowed.  

 

_ Strange,  _ he thinks.  Hylia has never shown such mercy before.

 

There’s a screech from behind him, pain-filled and desperate, but warped with the slowing of the world around him.  It cuts off rather quickly, regardless. Twilight wants to think that the moblin should be grateful its end came so quickly. 

 

Thinking is difficult right now.

  
  


He falls, in the end, not onto the ground, but into arms.  Arms that gather him up hurriedly and hold him close. 

 

And just like that, time begins to speed up again.  First is the sound, which warps so quickly back to right that it sounds wrong.  He can’t understand it at first, still trying to find the time to adjust, but soon enough he can hear words.  They’re being whispered, close to his ear. 

 

“Hey, hey, hey… I’ve got you, I’ve got you, just hang on Twi, please…”  

 

It’s Wild, he realizes just as his eyes catch up as well.  He’s still staring at the ground, but Wild’s back is there, too.  

 

He is lying limp in his protege's arms, his chin resting solidly on Wild’s shoulder who, only moments before, had seemed so far away.

 

_ Strange,  _ he thinks.  

 

There are other voices as well, but they fade in and out.  Calling his name. Calling for help. 

 

A hand on his back, large and firm as it presses against his wound, alerts him that Time has arrived.  

 

Always Time, always time.  

 

Wild shifts and pulls him closer.  His arms support Twilight from underneath his armpits.  His hands clutch at Twilight’s cloak. He’s whispering, frantic.

 

“Stay… don’t go, just stay… please…”

 

Twilight manages a muffled response of sorts.  He’s too weak to do anything else. Wild presses his cheek against Twilight’s head.  

 

Twilight is slipping.  

 

“I’ve got you.”

 

He’s slipping further and further.  Wild holds him tighter.

“Don’t go.”

 

He wants more time.  

 

“Please.”

 

But it slips away.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s dark.  His mouth feels like it has been filled with cotton; his tongue is heavy and each breath feels like he’s taking in air through a cheesecloth.  There are voices, somewhere, muffled by the haze that fills his head. 

  
  


He’s tired.  He feels like he’s floating on air.  The voices are far, far away. They sound achingly familiar, but the fog around him obscures them so that no names come to mind.  He can’t really bring himself to care. He’s floating floating floating. 

 

Maybe he’ll float away.  

 

He thinks, as much as he can, that it might be nice.  He’s not sure what or where or why he is right now, but the thought of letting go… to be swept out into a vast sea.  He can feel it lapping at his body, tiny waves coming up up up to kiss his fingers and toes and then retreating, bring little bits of him along with them.  He is sand, grains of himself falling away with the tide. 

 

He almost does.  Almost surrenders completely.  Lets the air leave his lungs with a sigh.  He almost surrenders. 

 

And then.

 

He is gripped, hooked, anchored by whatever has taken a hold of his hand.  It reels him back to shore, drags in back back back and suddenly there’s something solid beneath him and something sweet in his mouth.  

 

He’s slipping again, but it’s sleep this time.  The grip on his hand tightens. 

 

“Not yet.”

 


	2. I Can't Explain

He wakes and it is dark, but he can hear.  There are voices above him. They sound rather stressed.  Rather upset.

 

He feels a bit guilty, if he’s being honest.

 

He recognises them now and he’s ashamed he didn’t early.  It’s Wild, close to his right side, speaking in hushed tones to Time, who’s somewhere to his left.  

 

“I just… I don’t know what to do…”

 

“He’ll pull through, just give him time.”

 

Twilight wants to laugh at that.  Time, time, time. It seems he’s been given more.  

 

“It doesn’t usually take this long…”

 

Ah cub, he has time now.  He’s not going to waste it.  

 

Be patient. 

 

Give it time.  

 

* * *

  
  


When Twilight finally does come to, fully, there is light.  It’s soft and subtle as if filters in through the gap in a makeshift tent.  He blinks, the blurriness of his vision abiding a bit. There are birds chirping, somewhere.  It’s morning.

 

There is also warmth on either side of him.  It’s not unpleasant, but whatever is causing it has pinned him in place.  Twilight stifles a groan as he turns his head. The wound on his stomach protests, but it’s worth it to see Time lying beside him, asleep. 

 

He’s drooling.  

 

It takes a combination of pain and pure willpower on Twilight’s part not to laugh.  Time shifts in his sleep, snuffling about, and Twilight has to turn away, stifling a smile. 

 

There can only be one other person on his other side.  

 

Wild has buried himself into Twilight’s side, using Twilight’s arm as a pillow.  It’s oddly comforting, Twilight has to think. His nose is scrunched, his face flushed, as he shifts in sleep; he has a hand on Twilight’s chest, reaching across so that it lays palm down above his heart.  Twilight lifts his other arm, which Time has mercifully left free, and pats Wild’s hand lightly. 

 

Wild pouts, blinking awake and staring at Twilight blearily.  Twilight gives him a tired smile. 

 

“Hey.”

 

He expects Wild to say something; scold him, maybe, or smile and welcome him to the world of the waking.  What he doesn’t expect is for Wild to make a choked noise and launch himself into Twilight’s chest, wrapping his arms around Twilight and pulling him upwards.  It’s mildly uncomfortable and astoundingly surprising. Time jerks awake next to them, roused by Wild’s sudden movements. Twilight feels a hand on his back, supporting him.  Time is watching him with concern and, then, Twilight is surprised  _ again _ as his mentor leans over and wraps an arm around his shoulders.  He ends up sandwiched between his mentor and protege. Twilight feels a twinge in his chest.  

 

He hasn’t felt this kind of affection since he was just a little thing, held up on Rusl’s shoulders as they traversed through Ordon village.  

 

“Um…” he says, ever articulate, and Wild leans back to look at him.  He’s not crying, but his eyes shine with emotion. 

 

“A  _ week _ ,” he manages after a moment and Twilight feels his stomach drop.  “A week of not knowing whether or not you were gonna-” He breaks off and looks away.  Twilight feels Time squeeze his shoulder. 

 

“You were touch and go there for a bit, pup.”  Twilight meets his gaze and sees.  _ I was worried about you.  Wild was worried about you. _

 

He feels guilty again.  Beside him, Wild has moved away and is now kneeling, holding Twilight’s hand in his own.  His eyes are downcast, but he looks up when Twilight squeezes his hands. 

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Wild stares.  There’s a silent conversation, a sort of exchange, that passes between them.  Twilight doesn’t quite know how to explain; he’s only ever had with Time and Wild.  He thinks, maybe, he knows the reason.

 

Whatever it is, Wild lets a small smile grace his lips and he stands slowly.  His knees crack and Twilight winces. 

 

“I’m gonna make food,” he says quietly, casting a quick glance at Twilight.  Twilight smiles and Wild seems to find it satisfactory. He slips out of the tent, silent as ever, and Twilight can hear the others start to pester him outside. 

 

Time sighs and Twilight feels himself pulled a little closer.  

 

“I’m sorry,” he says again because that guilt is still there, but it’s swept away when Time huffs and squeezes his shoulder again.

 

“Rest,” he says and helps Twilight lay down again.  “Wild’ll probably bring you food soon.”

 

Twilight wants to protest, but as he’s laid back down against soft bedding, he finds it’s become harder to keep his eyes open.  Time is smiling softly down at him, in a way that reminds him of the warm candlelight of Lon Lon Ranch, saying something that Twilight can’t make out.  Twilight doesn’t get a chance to ask; the candle blows out and he goes out with it. 

 

* * *

  
  


_ He dreams of time and Time, and Wild running towards him, calling his name.  He looks down to see that he’s standing in his own blood again. The world is muffled and misted and he when he looks back up, he realizes with a start that Wild isn’t going to make it in time.  He’s too far away and Twilight’s falling to fast.  _

 

_ Gods, he wishes he had more time.   _

 

_ And then he does.  The world slows around him.  He remembers this part, remembers floating down instead of falling.  Remembers the sounds of the outside warping and distorting so that he can no longer make out words.   _

 

_ This time, though, he looks around and sees.  The others are almost frozen in mid-battle, the swing of their swords fighting against an unseen force.  He turns his head and sees Time, arm outstretched and trapped mid-stumble, panic clear as day on his face as he tries to reach Twilight.  He sees the moblin, caught in mid-death, its chest pierced by Time’s hook shot.  _

 

_ It’s a strange scene indeed.  He wonders if this is what near-death feels like, all slow like spilt molasses.  He thinks, maybe, he’ll ask Wild… or maybe not; that might insensitive.  _

 

_ He doesn’t get a chance to ponder the ethics of asking such a question; footsteps, un-warped and clear as they pound against the earth, draw him from his thoughts and Twilight looks and sees Wild, running.   _

 

_ Full speed, no freeze, jumping over companions like the horses he catches in untamed fields to make steeds; Wild leaps over a stock still Four and lands with grace.  Twilight is awestruck. Wild ignores time; he ducks under the still forms of swords and he’s running to Twilight full force, his arms coming up to catching him.  _

 

_ He reaches him before Twilight has barely even fallen two inches. _

 

_ Just as Wild’s arms grasp him, pulling him close, the world speeds up and everything goes dark.   _

 

* * *

  
  


Twilight wakes to Wild sitting beside him.  It disorienting, and he uses the time he has before Wild notices him to take stock.  Time is moving normally, the sounds of the outside bright. Wild has his knees drawn to his chest, his arms resting on them and his head resting on his arms.  He’s asleep again, Twilight notes with a bit of fondness. He figures Wild’s probably been awake for quite a while. 

 

He can’t linger on that for long; the contents of his dream won’t allow it.  Instead, he’s forced to think, which is hard with the headache that’s beginning to pound at the back of his skull.  

 

He’s thirsty.

 

And hungry.

 

There’s a bowl of something sitting next to Wild.  Twilight eyes it from where he lays. He could sit up.  It’s an option for sure. 

 

He tries and manages, with some difficulty.  Wild doesn’t wake as Twilight takes the bowl and begins to eat.  It’s a simple combo of salted meat and greens, but to Twilight it’s gold and he consumes it with a fury.  If he’s really been out for a week, that means that food has been a scarcity in his body. He’s pretty sure they’ve probably been sustaining him on potions. 

 

When he’s done, he sets the bowl aside and sits.  And waits. And thinks. 

 

There’s really only one explanation.  

 

He remembers now, the absurdity of it all; of passing out in Wild’s arms despite the distance between them.  It should have been impossible, but... with all the many times that Wild has seemed to prove such a notion wrong, Twilight is starting to have doubts.  He looks down at his hands in his lap and sighs through his nose. Interesting. 

 

He wonders if Wild even knows.  Does he realize what he can do? Can he do it on command?   

 

He thinks about Wild’s speed; firing volley after volley of arrows mid-air.  Taking enemies down mere seconds. He’d chalked it up to strength, of which is protege undoubtedly has plenty, but this is a new development.  

 

They should really discuss this.  He feels a tad of betrayal at the thought that Wild didn’t want to tell him, but pushes it away.  They’ve all got secrets. He trusts Wild. 

 

Still… they really have to talk about this one.  

 

It hits just a little too close to a certain mentor figure.  Twilight grimaces. Time would have a coronary. 

 

Ok, so maybe Wild’s valid in keeping this one tucked away.  

 

Still.

 

Twilight debates with himself for the better part of half an hour on how to broach the subject while Wild doses beside him.  He almost wakes him under the notion that his protege will get a sore back from sitting like that, but then he’d have to bring up the whole situation and he’s not sure how that’s going to go down.  

 

Seems he doesn’t have to worry much longer; Wild shudders awake with a groan, and Twilight watches as his protege comes back to himself with a jolt and a shake of his head.  Wild looks at him, relief clear in his eyes when he sees Twilight awake sitting, and then down at the empty bowl beside him.

 

“Ah, you ate.  How was it?”

 

“You can slow time.”

 

It comes out of Twilight’s mouth before he can stop himself and he sucks in air so quickly he thinks he might choke.  Wild is staring at him, mouth hanging open. He opens and closes it a few times, but can’t seem to find words. Twilight has his own mouth clamped shut.  They stare at each other, silent. 

 

The open of the tent has them both jumping and Twilight yelping as the movement smarts his wound.  Time peaks in, eyebrows raised at the both of them. 

 

“...everything okay…?”

 

Wild nods jerkily at the same time Twilight lets out a choked ‘Yep!’ and Time just nods, eye darting between the two of them.  He waits a moment before he seems to decide that he wants no part of this and slowly backs out of the tent. 

 

There’s a tense minute of silence as they listen to him pad away before Wild whips around to face Twilight, his face pale.

 

“Don’t tell Time!”

 

“I won’t tell Time.”

 

Wild seems surprised by this, and, if he’s being honest, Twilight is surprised by himself.  But the panic in Wild’s eyes pinches something in his heart, so he lets the statement remain as it is.  His protege clutches at the hem of his own tunic, the blue fabric stark against his skin. 

 

“...promise?”

 

“On my life,”  Twilight responds without hesitation and it’s like an oath.  Wild nods firmly, lips pursed. Twilight reaches a hand out and grasps Wild’s wrist.  Wild tenses, but allows Twilight to bring his hand up so that it’s held between the two of them.  Twilight tries to give him a reassuring smile.

 

“We don’t have to talk now, but later I think we shou-” 

 

“How do you know?”

 

It stops whatever thought Twilight was having and he has to stop and think. 

 

“I… When I got, uh, stabbed… it felt like everything slowed down…”

 

Wild stares at the ground.  

 

“I didn’t think anybody else could tell.”

 

“I don’t think the others know,” Twilight says, remembering the image of their forms frozen in space.  Wild chews at his bottom lip, nervous, and Twilight pats his cheek. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’s gonna be fine.”  

 

Wild looks at him warily.  

 

“You’re not upset?”

 

“Ah, cub,”  Twilight says and wraps an arm around Wild to pull him close, so that they’re pressed together side by side.  “I get why you didn’t say anything to us…” 

 

The unspoken  _ Time _ hangs in the air like a silkworm.  Wild huffs and leans into Twilight. 

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be.”

 

They sit there, in silence.  It’s not uncomfortable this time.  Wild relaxes, bit by bit, and even laughs as Twilight cracks a few jokes about all the things such an ability to accomplish.  

 

“Is this how you manage to get Legend back every time during your prank wars?”

 

Wild hides a smile behind his hair. 

 

“Nah… that’s just pure talent.”

 

“Oh, surely.”

 

Wild shoves him with his shoulder, and then immediately looks horrified as Twilight hisses with pain.  

 

“I’m so sorry-”

 

Twilight waves him off, grimacing.

 

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

 

Wild doesn’t look convinced.  He places a hand at Twilight’s back and chest and helps him lay back down.  

 

“Rest,” he says softly, and in the dim light of the tent, sitting above him with kind eyes, Twilight wonders if this is what Time looked like before the goddess ripped his youth from him.  When he’s settled, Wild makes to leave, but stops when Twilight grasps his wrist. 

 

“Uh,”  Twilight starts, but Wild doesn’t let him finish, instead settling down next to him again.  He pulls his slate from his belt, tapping away and just remaining at Twilight’s side as sleep begins to take over. 

 

Wild is humming, his voice soft and smooth.  Twilight doesn’t recognise it, but as he drifts off, he can’t help but feel a sort of nostalgia in the tune. 

  
  



End file.
